


A Brat, a Suck-Up, and a Commanding Officer

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bratting, Dom/sub, Iron Man Suit Kink, M/M, Obedience, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: Honestly, the most surprising thing is that Ihaven’twritten AI porn until now. As a robot-identified non-binary creature, JARVIS is the sibling of my heart, what can I say?
Relationships: Jarvis (Iron Man movies)/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 72





	A Brat, a Suck-Up, and a Commanding Officer

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, the most surprising thing is that I _haven’t_ written AI porn until now. As a robot-identified non-binary creature, JARVIS is the sibling of my heart, what can I say?

It’s late one night when Steve can’t sleep and comes down to Tony’s workshop level, seeking out some insomniac company. Usually the Avengers just drift into the common area when they can’t sleep, but no one was there when he checked, and Steve doesn’t think Tony will mind. JARVIS opens the doors for him, despite the fact that the glass is blacked out, and then Steve’s eyes go wide when he spots Tony on the far side of the workshop, bent naked over a workbench, the Iron Man armor behind him. The story Tony once told him drunk, about Obie and the first armor, splashes through Steve’s veins with a chill, and he gasps in shock.

“Tony! I’m coming!” Steve shouts, leaping over a workbench that’s in his way and running for the intruder in the suit. JARVIS must be disabled, he thinks, but somehow still possessing the ability to open the workshop for Steve. Thank God he came down here by chance...

But Tony gasps in a way that doesn’t sound  _ pained _ , or like he can’t speak. No, that’s… Steve blinks and skids to a halt a foot shy of the suit and a little to the side, where he has a better view of the scene. “No, Cap. I think that’s my line.” Tony makes a soft, greedy sound as two red metal fingers push deeper into his body. “It’s consensual,” he adds in another gasp, and Steve goes bright red.

“Oh… Jesus.” Steve stands frozen to the spot for a moment before he realizes that  _ he’s _ the intruder here. Why the hell did JARVIS even let him in? “Um. Sorry, Tony. And… whoever’s in there.”

“JARVIS,” Tony says, and Steve frowns. 

“Do you need help?”

“No.  _ It’s JARVIS _ .”

“In the  _ suit _ ?” Steve squints at it. 

“Indeed, Captain. I have the ability to pilot the suits remotely,” the usual crisp British voice speaks from the surrounding speakers. Then, “Quiet, Sir,” he adds, and Tony shudders all over. It’s like Steve can feel his own brain rebooting.  _ Huh _ .

Then Steve thinks about it. JARVIS  _ let Steve in _ .

“Would you… like me to help you, JARVIS?” Steve asks. He assumes Tony will speak up if he doesn’t want to consent, but instead Tony looks over his shoulder at Steve and his eyes are dark with interest. 

“That would be… most pleasant, Captain.” There’s a surprised quality to his tone, as if he’s using his vocal technology to convey that the sensation he’s reporting is unusual. 

“Pleasant?” Tony gasps, still rocking gently with the fingers inside him. “You can feel pleasant now?”

"Of course. It's not the first time I've used the term," JARVIS counters. The suit punctuates his words with some internal motion that makes Tony shout and arch his back.

"Yeah,” he gasps, “but with me, you're being sarcastic." JARVIS thrusts the fingers as far as they’ll go in one powerful movement that jolts Tony forward an inch despite how he’s braced. 

"Of course not, Sir." 

"You  _ like _ Steve," Tony gasps, with a kind of awe in his voice. 

JARVIS just corrects him before Tony can go on a science rant. "I like  _ both _ of you, Sir. Now do shut up and do what the good Captain orders." 

"Oh, you  _ suck-up _ ," Tony gasps, obviously delighted. 

"Only a consummate brat would use that term, Sir." JARVIS obviously finds the idea offensive. 

"Now, now boys," Steve warns. "Brat or a gentleman, doesn't matter to me. I swing both ways." 

"Well  _ obviously."  _

"Not in  _ every _ way, Stark." Steve grins like a shark. " _ I _ won't be calling you Sir, to be clear."

“Oh,” Tony murmurs, dropping his head between his forearms. “Yeah, all right.” JARVIS does the thing again with his fingers, and Tony moans long and low. 

“Can you keep him on the edge for a while without letting him come?” Steve asks JARVIS, circling the bench and considering the scene speculatively, with a strategic eye. The Iron Man armor really is rather forbidding, but nonetheless sexy, mechanically drilling Tony’s asshole with its fingers. 

“Most assuredly, Captain. I have access to biofeedback sensors in the suit.”

“You’re not helping to delay orgasm,” Tony grunts, “when you take my temperature and heart rate and rate of muscle contraction from _ inside my ass _ . Just to be clear.” 

“You are not helping, either, Sir,” JARVIS primly observes, grabbing Tony’s hip with the suit’s other hand. Steve watches Tony’s skin go white around the edges of his fingers, and can’t wait to see the bruises. 

“Good boy, JARVIS,” Steve praises.

“Oh. Thank you, Captain.” JARVIS is silent for a moment, but somehow Steve senses there’s more. “I…. rather enjoy that.” 

“I thought you might.” Steve smiles. “Now you… you’re behaving like a ten-year old girl, Tony. Pulling his pigtails,” Steve chides, pulling a rolling stool up and reaching across the bench to stroke Tony’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Do I need to get you a sweet little sundress to match your attitude?" Tony gasps and stares at Steve. He gets a finger in his mouth for his trouble. “Suck, doll. There ya go,” Steve coos. “You’re real pretty, Stark, taking us from both ends.” Tony makes a contented sound and stretches further across the worktop, taking Steve’s finger deeper. Steve watches the glowing eyes of the Iron Man suit, and while it’s not really his personal kink, there is something appealing to JARVIS having a body he can use to rail his creator. 

“Can he take another finger, JARVIS? You’re at two, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain. Sir should be able to accommodate an additional digit, but it will be a stretch. It may be difficult to avoid prostate stimulation.” He goes quiet, then, waiting for Steve’s orders. It’s a heady feeling, not at all like the straightforward nature of giving orders in the field. 

“Hmm. Keep it at two, then,” Steve decides. “But rub his balls a bit. If he can handle it.” 

“Of course, Captain. I won’t disappoint you,” JARVIS promises, and Steve smiles. “There you go, Tony. See what a  _ good _ boy JARVIS can be?” he teases, stroking Tony’s cheek with his other hand and feeding him a second finger. “And you’re so quiet like this, I can actually hear myself think.” He laughs, but it’s not unkind. He pets at Tony’s cheek, tugs lightly at his earlobe. “Don’t get me wrong. I do love what you come up with when you ramble, but this is… what do they say? A good look.” Tony glares, a bit, but he doesn’t stop sucking, and his irritation quickly melts when the armor’s shoulder shifts to allow JARVIS to reach up between his legs, stimulating his sensitive sac. 

“Next time, I’ll let you suck me,” Steve promises, and Tony’s eyes flick up to meet his, even as he moans at whatever JARVIS is doing down there.  _ Next time _ ? Tony’s clearly asking, and Steve just smiles. “That’s right. Consider this a trial run. Taking a baseline, right JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain. Highly advisable for later analysis.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That sounds right. You can help me analyze your Sir’s orgasms.  _ Later _ .” Tony’s eyes flutter shut. He whimpers. JARVIS keeps fucking him, always steady, with a mechanical ease. Steve’s gonna draw this, he thinks. Later. He imagines how he’ll capture Jarvis, wisps of blue light perhaps, swirling around the Iron Man armor, streaming out from its power source. In the back of his artist’s mind, he gets an image of a being kneeling in the workshop, almost formless, genderless, made entirely of light. He thinks he knows what he’s going to make JARVIS for Christmas. Tony, well. There are plenty of stores for the sort of thing  _ he _ deserves, these days. 

  
  



End file.
